


Enamour Me

by ornithia



Series: In the medical records [2]
Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-06
Updated: 2014-07-06
Packaged: 2018-02-07 18:35:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1909428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ornithia/pseuds/ornithia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The 'art' of wooing</p>
            </blockquote>





	Enamour Me

It had been a _very_ long time since Knock Out had considered a seeker for his next ‘conquest’. Most were too dull, or too high-strung. Arrogant, indignant, full of themselves. One needed to look no further than their former second-in-command to get a general idea of the stereotype associated with wings. Whatever _potential_ interest he may have once held in Starscream had been quickly scrapped when the mech's discrimination against terrain vehicles had become evident; _ground-pounders_. An uncouth slur, in the medic's opinion, meant to shun his kind from the 'privilege' fliers seemed so obsessed with. When Dreadwing first joined the crew of the _Nemesis,_ Knock Out had expected a similar sort of attitude; as it turns out, this had _not_ been the case.

In fact, the regal seeker had been nothing short of respectful, patient, indulging - even _sympathetic_ towards the medic. Had even shared one of his few, rare smiles over a cube of energon on one of their casual shift breaks. So really, it wasn't so unusual that, on one particular day off that the two and _Breakdown_ found themselves perched upon stools in a semi-circle, resting against the counter of the ship’s makeshift bar in the lower decks. With a quiet, subtle nudge to his assistant, Knock Out attempts to 'charm' the flier into his good _graces_ :

"You know, _Dreadwing_ … you have a rather _handsome_ paint-job. It _really_ brings out that powerful figure of yours.”

Breakdown merely rolls his lone optic at the medic's antics; Knock Out retaliates with his glossa. The seeker chuckles, amused by his drinking partners.

"Is that an attempt at trying to gain favor with me? You know that’s not necessary; not so long as you remain Lord Megatron’s _only_ qualified medic.”

The racer chuckles pleasantly, and leans into the seeker’s personal space - his EM field flickers flirtatiously between their frames.

"Not at all, _Dreadwing_ \- merely making an observation. You _clearly_ keep a maintenance routine - I’m _impressed_.”

There’s a snort of sorts from Breakdown’s direction; Knock Out shoots him a glare (‘ _Don’t patronise me'_ , it reads), but softens his expression when Dreadwing clears his throat to speak.

"... So you mentioned something about needing my presence in the med-bay, doctor; I am not grievously _ill,_ am I?"

Breakdown just about drowns himself in high-grade; Knock Out huffs, indignantly.

"Not at all-! It’s just, well …"

In a bold move, the medic dramatically sprawls himself across the seeker’s lap and flutters his plating, invitingly. With a purr, he fingers seams he'd studied intensely from data gathered during the new SIC’s regular check-ups. All the while, the red mech takes special note of every little nuance on the golden faceplate hovering just above.

"You’re a flier. And I _know_ this sounds crazy, but … you _do_ have my comm frequency. So … comm me, come _frag_ me, even - maybe?”

Dreadwing’s expression is nothing short of stupefied. He looks to Breakdown for assistance, but the bruiser merely shrugs - this was Knock Out’s domain, not his. Neither he nor the sportscar expect the booming laughter that follows-

"-Knock Out, you light-weight!"

Absolutely no one is prepared when the medic promptly enters stasis - how humiliating! - and tumbles like a dead weight, onto the ground. Was Dreadwing really that dense? Only Breakdown has the sense to pick the cherry mech from his spot on the ground, to carry him back to med-bay. The entire way, he has to assure Dreadwing that his apologies were unnecessary at best.

“‘Appens. **_Stressed_** , s’all.”


End file.
